


Green Carnation

by glenien



Series: It's No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: The Abominable Bride, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Eventual Happy Ending, Evil Mary, First Kiss, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Many meta, Oscar Wilde - Freeform, Past Drug Use, Phones as hearts, Sherlock is a drama queen, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Tears, The Talk, Victorian Gay Fever, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenien/pseuds/glenien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes Sherlock home. [Post-TAB]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Carnation

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is now ~~BETAED~~ by lovely [GorgeousDeduction](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GorgeousDeduction/profile) and medically semi-corrected by lovely [magialuna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/magialuna/profile)!

**Green Carnation**

 

_Cold air leaking out of thin glass panels, the monotonous noise of the giant wheels against the steel track…_

_The air pressure decreases as the plane ascends, while the trapped air drums painfully inside his ears, the baggage panels shake and cause a violent racket…_

_Feeling slightly queasy with the repeated motion of the train as it passes through blurry green pastures, he closes his eyes away from Watson’s watchful glance…_

_And away from the icy water drops needling the surface of his face, as the rocky bottom of the Swiss falls approaches with an unstoppable speed…_

With a gasp of breath, he opens his eyes.

The well-known walls of his bedroom, unmistakably belonging to twenty first century, are a welcome sight. Combined with concerned and familiar glance of a pair of dark blue eyes and a slight noise of pumping air, he can safely assume that he is finally out of drama that is his own head. There is approximately 178.9mmHg worth pressure upon his upper bicep and the sound of his own breathing mixes with regularly timed pumps of the inflating cuff of the aneroid sphygmomanometer which probably explains the slight feeling of his veins squeezing.

In short, John is taking his blood pressure. Sherlock lets out a breath.

The soft hushing sound the stethoscope makes when it is moved against his skin is surprisingly comforting. It may, as usual, be related to John’s presence, of course.

_Of course._

“Pulse seems normal, a bit elevated,” John says and hums as his eyes track down the numbers of the gauge. He removes the cuff, laying it aside. He lets go of the head of the stethoscope in order to free his hands to reach Sherlock’s head. Warm fingers check his eyelids, his brow and his throat. “No fever,” John adds and asks, “How do you feel?”

“It’s not my first overdose, _doctor_.” Sherlock snaps. Then notices the lines around John’s eyes. A bit too harsh, perhaps, considering the situation. _Not good_. He clears his throat, apologetically. “I’m fine. Everyone’s gone?”

John makes an affirmative noise.

“Excellent. I should start to work-” A sudden lurch in his mid-area reminds him strongly why he doesn’t opt for overdosing on empty stomach. He utterly forgot about this horrible, _abominable_ nausea.

John’s gentle hand pushes him back to his bed. “Ah- ah- not yet, take a moment, please. I would give you _something_ for that, but-”

“ _Why_ are you here?” Sherlock huffs out of his nose and swallows multiple times as he waits for his stomach to settle.

“Can’t I check on my best friend? I’ve thought that’s what I was doing,” John says in a low voice.

Sherlock falls silent, feeling slightly chastised.

“You, uh-” John clears his throat as he removes the earpieces of the stethoscope and starts to unstrap the Velcro, “-never told me about the list.”

Sherlock lets out a long breath. “It’s not something I indulge in often.”

“Hm,” John is still not looking at him in the eye, “Not since you have been back… from…?”

“No.”

“Okay,” John says quietly, “Okay.” He seems indecisive against letting go of Sherlock’s wrist, though. His thumb lingers on his pulse. “I wish-” John shuts his mouth and turns away. A crumbling sign of anguish plays shadows on his face.

Sherlock has seen that expression before, earlier today. He couldn’t handle it when they were in broad daylight, on the tarmac, he certainly can’t handle it now. “What?” he asks, gently.

John seems to be drawing some kind of strength from holding his wrist in a grip. Sherlock slightly turns his palm so that his fingers brush against John’s knuckles. If the point of John’s thumb moving against his vein is to soothe him, he is very wrong. It only makes his heart beat faster.

“You are, you know,” John says softly, his eyes on the carpet, “important to me.”

Sherlock doesn’t feel ready for this conversation. Not while his stomach is lurching and his hard drive seemingly all over the place with gothic cases and gun licking maniacs. “John-”

“No, no- let me say this,” John draws a shaky breath, “Because you rarely seem to listen to me, unless there are bombs or guns involved...”

“I _always_ listen to you,” Sherlock says ingenuously.

“I’m not stupid.”

“I _never_ said you were,” Sherlock interrupts, frowning now.

John continues as if he didn’t hear him. “I can be blind sometimes but- I’m not stupid.” John’s fingers tighten momentarily against his wrist. “You didn’t know about Moriarty until you were on that plane. You couldn’t have known about his return.” John’s eyes finally leave the carpet, confronting him and he waits for a contradiction.

Although he would love to, Sherlock is not able to offer one. He can never lie to John. He knew this day would come in the end- John already has an alcoholic sister, he doesn’t need deal with an addict of a friend. He closes his eyes. “You should go back to Mary- as you can see I am fine, now,” he says regrettably and sits up, while reluctantly removing his hand.

John grabs his shoulder. “Just- _forget_ about Mary a second. Sherlock- _please_.” John’s eyes fall north-west of his chest, where the gun wound resides, “I wasn’t fooled by this and I wouldn’t be fooled by-” John takes a deep breath and speaks toward his chest. “You weren’t coming back. That was our goodbye. You wanted me to name my daughter after you while you were-”

John’s voice fades. He turns his blurry eyes towards the ceiling while biting down a harsh breath. He pulls his hands completely away from Sherlock, clasping them in his own lap. His body turned away from him, he struggles to get a hold on himself.

Sherlock thought being shot in the chest really, _really_ hurt, before. Now he knows he was gravely mistaken. Watching one John Watson desperately struggle not to cry is ten thousand times worse.

It’s agonizing.

It’s unacceptable.

He feels like he should say sorry. “I’m sorry, John,” he murmurs.

John loudly clears his throat and a grimace of smile appears on the lower half of his face. He doesn’t look up from his interlocked fingers and his voice shakes. “That blog entry you were reading- I remember it clearly. I was in that godawful bedsit when I was writing it. And it was the first time in many days I hadn’t looked in my drawer.” Sherlock draws a harsh breath. “I didn’t _have_ a list. But- I was prepared to- I _was going_ to-”

John’s voice dies down as Sherlock grasps his fingers with both hands. “John- _please_ ,” he begs.

“So, I do know a bit about that- see?” A muscle jumps in John’s cheek and he glimpses up. “Whatever you think happened since then- you need to know. You _did_ save my life. All these years ago, when we met- you _saved_ me.” His smile turns a bit teary. “So, know that, Sherlock, there is nothing, _nothing_ I wouldn’t do for you, either. I _lo_ -” He chokes, “I _love_ you.”

Everything inside his brain is screeched to a halt. The waterfalls are frozen. The fire is unmoving. There are no doors, no corridors, no stairways, no court rooms, not even Redbeard. There is only one lab, whose door is pushed open by Mike Stamford, followed closely by a limping army doctor.

_“Here, use mine.” John smiles and hands him his phone._

John’s grip on his fingers is almost painful now. Sherlock doesn’t mind even one bit. He can sit across John and listen to his words and never take another breath ever again. He blinks and blinks and thinks he probably should say something as it seems John’s entire frame is shaking now.

_“That's getting a bit scary.”_

Anytime, now.

John swallows and bites his lower lip and seems sick with the effort of getting the words out. “So please- please, will you? For me? For me, Sherlock- _will you_ \- I can’t- I can’t handle another- _God_ , sorry-”

The rest of John’s words are stopped by the force of Sherlock’s shoulder as it hits his chest.

Never before has Sherlock felt such a strong urge to combine with someone through osmosis. If he could break John down into single atoms now, he would happily bind them into every one of his cells. He tightens his grip on John’s body until he can feel nothing but the muscles and bones. He swallows the giant lump which seems to have formed in his throat and answers, “I promise.”

John struggles to finish his sentence. “I know it’s- it’s not-”

“John. No more lists,” Sherlock promises, strongly.

Against all odds, John’s tremors seem to pass and his body sags against Sherlock’s. Sherlock feels, rather than hears an exhale of breath against his neck. John doesn’t seem inclined to let go of him either, so for once, Sherlock indulges himself as he buries his treacherous heart into the embrace.

He feels gentle fingers and a soft murmur in his hair. “I really don’t want to name her after you,” says John.

A laugh bursts out of Sherlock’s body. John snorts and smiles against his shoulder. They don’t let go. In fact, John seems to be burying his way even deeper. He smells warm- amazing. It’s astonishing. Wonderful. Just, wonderful.

He really should hug John more often. It seems quite consequential to his health.

John loves him.

John loves him.

John _loves_ him.

“Youloveme,” he gabbles and instantly, wants to burn out the entire mind palace.

John chuckles and lets out a sigh into his shoulder. “God help me, but I do.”

“You do…?” Sherlock’s voice unfortunately takes a higher note of wonder and John notices. He wants to blame it on their proximity- it utterly short-circuited his wires.

John draws back a little to look at his face, a soft expression playing around his eyes, his smile a bit unsure. “I swear sometimes; you are just taking the piss out of me.”

Feeling a bit lost, Sherlock can’t think but a single thing to say. He sees John’s face move slightly closer, slightly to his right and feels careful lips brush to his cheek.

Even though it lasts just one second, he is sure his face is burned down to the bone. Impossible to guess or deduce what John could possibly be thinking, he sees him making a move to get up and away from the bed.

That is simply not acceptable. Heart suddenly pounding, Sherlock grasps John’s wrist in a death grip.

“It _can’t_ be.” His eyes are now frantically searching John’s, who seems utterly embarrassed and regretful now. “Heart rate _elevated_ \- pupils _enlarged_ \- I missed- I _missed_ it.” Sherlock hisses. “How could I miss _this_?”

“Sherlock- please...” John clears his throat.

“You _never_ had any tells- unless- there were there from the beginning-” Sherlock draws a powerful breath. “You _always_ insist. _Shout_ about it, even. _You are not gay_.”

John opens his mouth, licks his lower lip and closes it. A lovely tone of crimson red climbs up from his neck and colours his face.

“When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Sherlock says in a hushed tone. His eyes follow John’s mouth. “You told Mary about Sholto.”

“I did.” John’s eyebrows lift bravely.

“Whom you _never_ told me about.”

“No-” The man bites his lower lip, _again_ , “Nope, I didn’t.”

For once in his life, Sherlock feels utterly dumb. Is it possible that- finally- the last piece of this ultimate puzzle is fitting into place? There is always, _always_ something. He feels himself drawing slightly straighter. “Doctor Watson, what happened between you and the Major?”

John clears his throat and scratches his cheek. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

Stunned, Sherlock draws back- but John continues, fixing his eyes upon the lower corner of Sherlock’s chin. “As you pointed out so clearly once, he _was_ my commanding officer. Nothing _could_ have happened.”

_Oh._

“ _Oh_ ,” Sherlock says.

“Yes, that.” John doesn’t seem able to elaborate any further. In fact, he grows even more shy with each minute passing against the glance of Sherlock’s widened eyes. “So,” he coughs out a bit, “Did- something… happen... between you and Irene? Or… um, Janine?”

“No, nothing.” Sherlock says, hushed, amazed at this ridiculous man beyond belief, “I told you before. Women are not my area.” He lets out a shaky breath. “You are.”

John’s eyes lock into his.

“Only you,” Sherlock babbles, “I- sorry- I- I shouldn’t have- probably-”

“ _Shut_ _up_ , Sherlock,” John blurts out fiercely and grabs him and kisses him within an inch of his life.

Sherlock opens his mouth, feels John’s mouth against his, still warm from all the blushing he had done before and his hungry arms full of John’s solid presence and feels, _fucking finally_ feels something come alive inside of him.

His palms come up to hold him in place, but John is not going anywhere. He feels himself drawn further into his embrace and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

And they kiss some more.

And more.

When Sherlock starts feeling dizzy and can’t draw breath into his chest, he lets out a moan. “ _John_ …”

John is not done. “Tell me now _this is what you want_ \- what you wanted _all along_ ,” His lips trace the words into Sherlock’s cheek, his eyes, his brow, “ _Tell me_ , Sherlock. I forgave Mary and went along with that nonsense of yours just to placate you- but if you were doing it for my sake…”

One word of _Mary_ and Sherlock throws all caution out. “This is what I want. I- _want_ you, John. With all my heart.” He breathes.

John blinks, blinks and shakily smiles. “Good- good- me too. _You_. With all my heart.”

Sherlock can’t stand to watch even for one more moment to those eyes fill. He kisses John, again. John kisses him back. Fingers, caresses, soft breaths, loving touches on his face, all are welcomed.

Sherlock swallows. He has never felt this weak and vulnerable before. It feels like he has his heart frayed open. He has to ask. “What about…”

John lets out a sigh. “Whomever you think I am- there is no world in which I would be able to forget or to forgive Mary for what she has done to you. I can’t stay with her, Sherlock. I _couldn’t_ , even before that. I’ll leave her. I’ll move out. You will have to get your schedule clean for custody visits.”

“Of course.” Sherlock feels his voice tremble. He still can’t believe it. Has he really _done_ it this time?

John sees the conflict in his face, smiles and caresses his cheek. “Besides, I- never mind. It’s… it’s too early for that. We’ll see it soon, when the baby is born. I have you. That’s enough for me.”

“You always had me, John,” Sherlock murmurs to his skin.

“Didn’t know that, did I?” John smiles into his cheek. Sherlock buries his face into his lovely neck.

“We should make you wear a vest.”

“Okay,” John murmurs and fixes a bunch of his crumpled curls.

“She might murder you.”

“Okay.”

“Or me. Well, she tried once.”

“I won’t let her, love.”

Sherlock lifts his face. “Love?”

“Yes, _love_.” John smiles like springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush the burnished bosom of the dove. Poetry. _Wilde_. Sherlock is dazzled, he didn’t delete it all, after all. “ _Love_ , love you, Sherlock. So much.”

“John-” He breathes, “My dear John.”

The future seems bleak, dangerous and unsolvable- many threats dangling at the end, but in that moment, Sherlock feels like two of them could take down the entire world.

 

*-*

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may have a sequel to this. I DO HAVE A SEQUEL TO THIS.
> 
> Edit: An [ inspired Mystrade](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5636890) to this fic by lovely [awakencordy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/awakencordy/profile).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776210) by [glenien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenien/pseuds/glenien)




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